Back in Clare, Yvonne slipped into her daily routine. Days passed and Nolan didn’t mention marriage again, although he spent a lot of time at her house. Sometimes he stayed late. Sometimes he left as soon as the boys went to bed. And sometimes, like today, he took half an hour and stopped by the café for coffee and one of Gina’s savory muffins.
“Everyone’s staring,” Yvonne said under her breath.
“Let them.” Nolan shrugged without concern and placed his hand on top of hers.
Immediately Yvonne heard the rise of whispers, sensed the exchange of I-told-you-so glances.
“They’ll get over it soon enough. Would you like to go to the pub for lunch on Sunday? It’ll be me and Dad, plus Eric and Josie since it’s their last day here in Clare.”
“What about the boys?”
“It’s a family lunch,” Nolan said, squeezing her hand. She saw his lips twitch at the flurry of muted words that floated from the elderly ladies sitting at the next table. “Of course the boys are invited.”
“I’d like that,” Yvonne said.
“Good. I’d better go. Some stupid idiot took the corner too fast and went through my fence. I patched it last night, but I need to pick up a coil of wire and batons and do a proper fix.”
Yvonne stood and started to gather their empty cups.
Nolan touched her arm and smiled. “I’ll see you later tonight. Probably after the boys go to bed.” Then he kissed her, a quick, brief kiss that did little to quench her desire for physical contact, yet made her tingle all over anyway. “Be good.”
Yvonne laughed. “That gives me plenty of leeway.” She watched him until he disappeared outside before clearing their table. The acute silence pierced her happiness bubble, and she glanced up to find herself the focus of the café customers. Most wore smiles and approval. “Show’s over, folks,” she said and gave an elegant bow. Applause followed her out the back.
“What’s going on?” Gina asked, looking up from rolling out pastry. A dusting of flour covered one cheek and a few wisps of iron-gray hair curled from beneath her chef’s hat.
“Nolan kissed me goodbye in front of everyone.”
“Good on the boy. I wonder how long it takes that to get back to Elizabeth.”
“I don’t want to talk about that woman,” Yvonne muttered. “And she’d better keep her broomstick away from me.”
Gina gave her pastry another pass with the rolling pin, then turned the oblong with deft hands. “That woman is judgmental. Always has been and I doubt she’ll change, although you’d think she’d learn after driving both sons and her husband away. I heard Samuel is going out with Daphne Chester.”
“Really? That must be difficult for Elizabeth. They’re not divorced yet.”
“He’s visited the lawyer,” Gina said. “Daphne told me that. She wouldn’t go out with him otherwise.”
Yvonne let out an indelicate snort. “This town is a hotbed of gossip. What with the feud between the O’Grady’s and the Drummonds, the Penriths’ split and the Shakespeare sextuplets coming home to do a reality show, the local tattletales are spoiled for choice.”
“You forgot to add the Mathesons,” Gina said, her tone dry. “The original Matheson was a real black sheep, and they say the daughter takes after her ancestor with all her shenanigans.”
“I don’t think I’ve met her.”
“No, she’s been overseas for a while. You’ll know the minute she hits town.” Gina cut rounds of pastry and lined tins. “Can you grab the meat pie mix out of the fridge?”
Yvonne retrieved the covered dish of steak and onions in thick gravy and handed it over. “I’d better get back out front before the natives get restless.”
“Is it serious between you and Nolan?”
Yvonne stopped halfway to the door and turned to her aunt. “He says he wants to marry me.”
“I don’t see a ring on your finger.”
“I told him I wanted friendship and that was all.”
“Yet you let him kiss you in the middle of the café where people can see. The locals have already started a sweepstake. I thought I might take a punt, but you need to give me the inside scoop.” Her aunt let out a sharp cackle. “You should see your face.”
A call went up from the front. “Yvonne!”
“I’m needed,” Yvonne said in a dignified voice. She left to the sound of her aunt’s hoots of amusement.
Yvonne kept busy with making coffee while her assistant took orders and cleared tables. In the bookstore section, customers browsed the shelves and the cash register pinged its happy song every time the assistant rang up an order. Business was booming since the reality show. Clare seemed to have hit the tourist map big time.
The doorbell announced a new arrival, and Yvonne glanced up. She fumbled the jug of hot milk she was heating and burned her hand. “Damn.”
Yvonne turned to grab a can of cold soft drink and held it to her smarting skin while she spied on Elizabeth Penrith. The woman waved at her circle of friends—the same ones who’d whispered and witnessed the earlier kiss—before stalking to the counter to place her order. Why the devil had they started coming to Gina’s Books, anyway?
Yvonne surveyed the pinked skin and decided she’d live. She went back to building her order of coffees. Low murmurs floated to her, but she firmly ignored her impulse to lift her head and glare. If she shrugged off gossip, people would soon tire of her and move on to the next juicy tidbit. As Gina said, they were spoiled for choice.
“Good morning, Yvonne,” a cool voice said.
Yvonne’s hand slipped again and hot milk sloshed on the back of her hand. “Bloody hell,” she muttered, letting the cup go. It wobbled, and in slow motion, toppled to the floor. Damn and blast.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you,” Elizabeth said.
“Good morning, Mrs. Penrith,” Yvonne said, and hoped her bared teeth bore a resemblance to a polite smile.
“Please call me Elizabeth. I’ll let you get on. I can see you’re busy.” The woman’s grim countenance lightened and the corners of her mouth lifted. She gave a nod and trotted away to join her friends.
Yvonne stared, and aware of the renewed whispers, started picking up the larger pieces of broken china.
Gina appeared seconds later, gave the floor a swift look and made a clucking sound. “I’ll get a mop,” she said, and retreated to the kitchen.
Later that night, Nolan rushed through the door, bringing with him the cool of a rainy night. Yvonne raised her head for his kiss, recoiled at the touch of icy lips.
“You should have stayed at home. It’s miserable outside.”
She took his coat, shook off the worst of the rain before hanging it up on the empty hook next to her boys’ jackets. Should she tell him about his mother’s weird behavior?
“This is home for me, Yvonne.” His gaze was steady on hers as he said the words, his sincerity blazing through. “When I think of home, you and the boys are the first things that come to mind.”
“Oh, Nolan.” His words undid her, tore away the makeshift patches on her heart. With two quick strides, she reached him and flung her arms around his neck. Like a monkey, she clung to his large body, uncaring now of the chill.
“Let’s go to bed,” he whispered against her lips.
“It’s early.”
“Who said anything about sleeping? We’ll warm up.”
A gurgle burst from Yvonne. Tinged with happiness, it surprised her, shocked her since she couldn’t recall the last time she’d made that saucy sound of compliance. Nolan swept her into his arms and headed for her bedroom. He shut the door with his hip and deposited her on the bed. He followed her down, caging her in his arms, taking possession of her mouth. Hunger exploded between them—hot and molten, urgent.
She flicked her tongue against his, the move provocative and earning her a sensual growl.
“Wait. I’d better lock the door. Do you want me to check on the boys first?” He punctuated his words with a slow hip swivel. The throbbing hardness of him scored her belly, and instinctively, she wriggled until they notched together in perfect alignment.
“I’ll go.” Yet she didn’t move, couldn’t move when her heart ached with fullness.
He lifted away, his grin one of masculine satisfaction. “I’d like to see the boys. They look angelic when they’re asleep and recharging.”
“Nolan,” she whispered so softly she knew he wouldn’t hear. She rolled over to her side, hugging herself in an effort to contain her joy. In little ways, he’d edged into her life—some might compare it to an insidious disease. His methods contained that sort of silent creep. Despite her or in spite of her, he’d grown roots here and wrapped them around her heart, around her sons until they’d all started to accept him, to miss him when work kept him absent.
She’d cleared a hook for him on the coat rack.
Nolan had transformed this house—her and her sons—into a home. The final barrier around her heart let go with an inaudible whoosh. It allowed a sliver of fear through to nip at her happiness. She wanted to tell Nolan she loved him, but he hadn’t said the words either, and she couldn’t help remembering her husband, contrasting the two.
Her husband had professed his love. He’d told her they’d have a happy life, forever.
He’d lied.
“The boys are sound asleep. Hey, those look like heavy thoughts.” Nolan tugged a lock of her hair.
She blinked up at him. “Sorry. Busy day at work. Sometimes it’s hard to switch off.” And that was a big, fat lie. She was stupidly letting her past mess with the possibility of a happy future. Nolan loved her. He loved the boys, and he demonstrated the depth of his feelings every day, in every interaction. Michael and David were thriving under his attention, and she shouldn’t need his words to rubberstamp the deal when words were like cheap carnival beads. Actions were the gold in this treasure hunt.
“Let’s get you into bed then,” he said, his kindness bringing the sting of tears to her eyes. Not the impression she wanted to give tonight. Crying would raise questions, and she needed to shore her defenses.
Another thought whisked into her mind, one she hadn’t entertained for a long time, and an unwelcome blast from her husband past.
You’re kinky, Yvonne. Admit it. You like trying new things, pushing sexual boundaries. The only time you didn’t disgust me was when you agreed to a threesome with your dance partner. That time you played right into my hands.
“Yvonne.” Nolan shook her lightly. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” she replied automatically, and it was obvious to both of them she’d told a fib. She pushed out a grumpy sigh, angry at her ex all over again and pissed at herself for letting him spoil her time with Nolan. “The past.”
“What about it?”
“Forget it,” she said. “Nothing important. I’d rather show you how much I missed you today.” She reached for his buttons and unfastened two. Time to deflect his curiosity. She leaped into siren mode, which was what she did best, and dipped her fingers beneath the denim of his shirt. Warm skin. She leaned closer to kiss that skin and masculine soap and the faint whiff of farm wrapped around her senses like her comfortable flannel robe. “I want you.”
“I’m yours.” He sucked her bottom lip, gave her a quick nip. A low moan sounded deep in her chest. It rushed up her throat, shoving aside every misgiving, every hesitant thought. She tugged his shirt and struggled to remove the garment.
Nolan laughed, not even trying to help her search for more skin and farm-fit muscles. Instead, he trailed tiny kisses down her throat, lingered at the juncture of her shoulder and neck until arrows of heat and pleasure darted through her to sink into the bull’s eye. God, she wanted him. Right now.
Busy hands dealt with her clothes while his mouth paid homage to every erogenous zone he revealed. The swish of his tongue tickled her stomach. A puff of warm air down her folds sparked a tightening sensation deep in her womb, and she stirred restlessly, splaying her legs and displaying everything to his gaze.
For a second, thoughts of her husband threatened, her muscles tensing when she recalled his disgust of sexual intimacy with her, his dislike of her open enjoyment.
Yvonne cursed under her breath, angry with herself for letting her husband intrude yet again. Almost defiantly, she lifted her hips in a silent demand for more of Nolan’s touch, and his hum of approval shunted her to a better place. One hand fastened on her hip and held her still while he finally made contact. She sighed in pleasure at the languid, lazy swish of tongue on and around her clit.
“More,” she demanded and barely jumped when the fingers of his other hand roamed to press against her puckered entrance.
“How much more?”
“Everything, Nolan.” As his thumb pressed deeper, an edge of dirty heat knifed her, stealing her breath, stopping her heart for an anxious moment. Need warred with decorum. “I haven’t done this for a long time.”
Nolan lifted his head, his eyes glittering with lust. “Do you want me to stop?”
Yvonne forced a smile, kicked husband memories in their fleshy gut. “Just go slow.”
“I would have anyway,” Nolan said with a quick grin of acceptance. “You went easy on me. Lube?”
“In the drawer,” she said, indicating which one with a jerk of her head. He gave her nub a lick and continued down, teasing her pussy, his stubble rasping the delicate skin of her inner thighs. The spicy tang of arousal filled the air while he drove her higher with his fingers and mouth.
When he finally rose to grab lube, the hot pleasure from his touch made itself felt in sensual pins and needles. Her nipples were hard, distended. Ruby red, and the touch of her hand at her breast arced down to her pussy in a bungee of raw, needy demand.
“Yvonne, that’s so hot. I love watching you, your open sensuality. I like your sense of adventure. It makes loving you fun.”
Eyes she hadn’t remembered closing flew open, opposing adversaries of guilt and pleasure battling it out for supremacy. She gazed at Nolan, tried to register his mood, his thoughts, the reasons and meaning behind his words.
And failed.
Her judgment had warped, leaving her like a boat bobbing on an ocean and not an oar in sight. She could no longer trust her gut.
Nolan frowned.
The silence lengthened until it snapped like a dry piece of pasta.
“My husband thought I was kinky, and not in a good way.” Oh, god. Now she’d done it.
Nolan stared, searching her features for explanations.
She had nothing more to give.
“You don’t talk about him. I figured you’d relegated him to the past, which is fine by me. His stupidity gives me the chance to scoop up you and the boys for myself.”
“I like sex.” Shut up now, Yvonne.
“So do I,” Nolan said with an easy shrug. “What’s not to like? I enjoy the way you take the lead sometimes.” He picked up her hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “I love the things we do together. Sex with you is exciting and fresh.” Nolan stroked her hip as he spoke, his touch soothing the doubt beast but not slaying the monster. When she bit her lip, he leaned over and kissed her, taking her mouth hard. His tongue swept inside and danced against hers, demanding a response.
Swept up by his passion, Yvonne surrendered, her arms creeping around his neck. She rocked against him, trapping the hard length of his cock between their lower bodies.
He groaned against her mouth, and she couldn’t help her spurt of amusement. Nolan jerked away, his stern expression belied by the twinkle in his sex-on-his-mind eyes. “I’m directing matters today.” He pinched one nipple as if to ascertain her attention. “On your hands and knees. You have my permission to play with your clit while I’m preparing you.”
“Yes, sir.” Good plan.
“I like that,” he said, and when she turned over to follow his instruction, he smacked her buttock.
“Hey.”
“That’s for letting your mind go to your ex while we’re getting busy.” The sharp crack of his palm hitting her bottom rang out. “Don’t do it again. We’ll talk afterward. Understand?”
“Yes, sir.” Yvonne found herself grinning, despite the tingle of heat at her butt.
His hand came down again, hard enough to smart. “Make sure you remember it.”
Nolan shifted his weight. The whurt-whurt told her Nolan was pumping lube from the bottle. Seconds later, his finger pressed against her entrance.
“Ooh.” She attempted to wriggle from his grasp. “You could’ve warmed the lube.”
“Now where’s the fun in that?”
Yvonne sucked in a breath, let it ease out slowly and forced relaxation on her rebellious muscles. Her butt throbbed, her pussy ached and the bore of Nolan’s finger tunneling into her ass completed the trifecta. She inhaled, let the air whisper back out.
“Okay?”
“Better than I remember.”
“That’s because it’s me,” he said, full of smugness.
“Big head.”
“Yes,” he said. “And soon it’s gonna be inside you.”
A snicker burst from her, counteracting the sensation of pressure and the dance toward pain.
“I thought I told you to play with yourself.”
Her clit was engorged, slippery and every nerve ending vibrated. Sweet anticipation. Nolan had more than one finger in her now, the aching bite falling on the good side of the pain barrier.
“Give me a running commentary. Tell me how you feel.”
“Good. I can feel the stretch from your fingers. There’s a bit of pain. Not too bad. When I touch my clit the discomfort backs off.”
“I’m going to get more lube.”
Once again, the chill against her skin made her flinch. Nolan laughed softly and gave her another finger, working her easily. She delved between her legs and alternatively tugged on her nipples. The ache…the need for more grew to desperation levels.
“Nolan.”
“It’s okay, sweetheart.”
“I need you inside me.”
“It’s time.” The rip of a condom package, his easy agreement tripped her pulse rate. The grumpy protest of the lube bottle made her catch her breath.
“Ready?”
“Take me. Please, take me.”
He fit his cock to her, and she relaxed, trying to keep her breaths even. Slow. The hard length of his cock pushed inside her, her guardian muscle protesting. Fire swarmed over her, intense bursts of heat. He pulled back, tunneled deeper. The faint sensation of pain twisted through her, a lash of erotic fear before she calmed and remembered to stroke her clit.
Finally, finally, his warm weight draped over her back, and he started to fuck her in earnest. Each stroke pushed her to the slim border between pleasure and pain.
“You’re so beautiful, sweetheart. I love the feel of you squeezing my cock. Such a dirty girl. My sexy, dirty girl,” he whispered against her ear. “You feel good. So good. Not gonna last much longer. Stroke yourself again. Make yourself come. I want to feel your arse clenching ’round my dick. Want to come so bad, sweetheart.”
Mesmerized by his voice, she sank into a pleasure zone as she fingered herself. The clawing tension in her pussy increased, the delicate brush of her fingers and the fullness in her arse, pushing her hard. Bright sparks of sensation came slowly at first, a burst of awareness.
Nolan pulled back and stroked smoothly into her. He gave a hushed moan and it ricocheted through her straining body, pushed her harder, faster and the swell took her, hauling her into a maelstrom of pleasure that left her sobbing.
“Nolan.” Her finger kept working her clit while her vagina and arse pulsed hard.
Nolan gave a hoarse groan. He pulled back, sank deep. “Can feel the spasms around my dick. Feels good.” His hips snapped forward in three rapid thrusts and she gasped, her rectum clamping around him hard as he froze. Her clit jumped in another mini climax and a shudder rocked her.
Only the hoarseness of their breathing broke the silence, and for long moments, Nolan rested against her back. He sucked her neck, and she knew it would leave a mark.
She didn’t care what others thought.
Nolan pulled from her, turned her to face him. “I love you, Yvonne. You’re everything to me, and if you think I’m letting you get away, think again. I want to marry you.”
She seized on the first part of his declaration. “You love me?”
“You doubt me?” Nolan sat back, frowned at her. “Back in a sec.”
Yvonne fell forward to sprawl in a boneless heap. Some parts of her body ached while others felt well-used. Nolan loved her. She tested his words for sincerity and ended up hopelessly confused.
Nolan returned, and she heard the snip of the lock. He switched on one of the bedside lamps. “Let me get you cleaned up.”
The warm cloth was blissful, and a sigh emerged as she let him tend her. Task completed, he tossed the cloth aside and climbed into bed. His arms wrapped around her, and he arranged her against his chest. He tipped her chin upward and their gazes connected. “I haven’t said this before, because the words hold power. They mean something to me. I love you, Yvonne, and I want to share my life with you and the boys. Wait.” He placed his fingers over her lips. “I haven’t handled things well between us. I’ve made mistakes, but I’ve learned from them. I can’t imagine my life without you in it.”
He stared at her in silent expectation.
“I love you too, Nolan.” There, she’d voiced the feelings that struggled for freedom. “But I need to take things slowly. I don’t want to rush and have the boys hurt.”
“I would never hurt your sons.” A wounded expression settled on his features.
“I know that.” She gave a heavy sigh. “I’m not explaining myself well. You say you want to marry me. Would you consider an engagement?”
His eyes narrowed. “How long?”
“Just give me three months.”
“What’s gonna change in three months?” Now he sounded belligerent.
“My husband told me he loved me. He said he intended to spend the rest of his life proving it to me.”
“Don’t try forcing me into your ex’s shoes.”
“I’m not.” Yvonne paused, reordered her mind. “My husband was always telling me my enjoyment of sex wasn’t right, that I needed help. I know there’s nothing wrong with me. I have a healthy sex drive, and I’m not about to apologize for the fact.”
“It makes me a lucky man.”
Yvonne hesitated, her mind darting to previous mistakes. A question trembled at the tip of her tongue, one she’d thought about, considered and reconsidered since the breakup of her marriage.
If you don’t ask you’ll never know.
But she hated the sudden insecurity that made her ask, the way she was tarring Nolan with wounds from her past and testing his commitment to her and the boys. The damage inflicted by her husband had settled deeper than she’d realized, but she had to be sure she didn’t repeat history.
She wanted a man who wanted and needed her.
Just her and no one else.
She cleared her throat and let the words spill out. “What if I asked if we could have a threesome with another man?”
“A ménage a trois?”
“Yeah.” An Irish dancer was doing a jig in her stomach.
“No.” He stared at her, his eyes hot, suddenly untrusting. “No. I won’t share you with another man.”
She stared back, her gaze locked with his. This sounded like a man who didn’t intend to reconsider. Ever. “What if I suggested another woman?”
“No.”
“You haven’t even thought about it.”
“And I don’t intend to either. Other men might be okay with sharing their wives or girlfriends, but not me. I want a woman of my own.” His expression might have been a smirk on another man. Yvonne knew better. Not an ounce of emotion traveled to his eyes. “I’m not good at sharing. Ask Tyler. The only exception would be sharing my life with you. That would be easy.”
“So no women either?”
Nolan grasped her shoulders and shook. “No. You want extra penetration or different sensations, we’ll invest in more toys.”
“My husband suggested a threesome,” Yvonne said. “I thought it’d be fun. Our marriage had been on shaky ground for months, and I figured it was worth a shot. I thought it might bring us closer together.”
“What happened?”
“It turned out my husband had the hots for my dance partner. And it became obvious my dance partner returned the sentiment. I became an unnecessary third in the bed. I—I don’t want that to happen again.”
Nolan bolted upright in the bed, his eyes flashing with temper and shock. “This was a bloody test?”